


you'll slip your tongue and i'll want you more

by 214jae



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, just jaeyong with beer and their shared playlist on really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/214jae/pseuds/214jae
Summary: Jaehyun knows they should eventually stop because this, whatever it might impose and whatever it'll be later when they're more sober, isn't quite a response to what Taeyong meant by what he said. Is he going to leave this time too? Why does he always leave? What does leaving have to do with the press of Taeyong's mouth against his and the wrestling of their tongues—Taeyong's good at French kissing, by the way.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 8
Kudos: 156





	you'll slip your tongue and i'll want you more

**Author's Note:**

> hi... this acc's been a ghost town for three months and i actually don't know what to say. but anyways this one's just an excuse to write jaeyong listening to their shared playlist (and making out) haha
> 
> said shared playlist is [this](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4TS0V9op0YjSjplaAXwtyy?si=pRT2fbgyRIenBSfj-PaHVg)  
> and the title's inpired by bruno major's nothing :D

Jaehyun's had about six cans of beer, and even then he's still as sober as sober in his rather beer-induced mind could be. It's fine, really, he's nursing his seventh can and he still remembers connecting their shared playlist to his Bluetooth speaker and how clean the coffee table was an hour and a half ago when they haven't popped a single can open yet. But he's already not in the most righteous state of mind to start useless, if not a silly conversation over random topics.

"It's really, _definitely,_ better when you drink beer in, like, a glass bottle. It tastes better." Jaehyun's words easily roll off the tip of his tongue. Very easily. Enough for it to be slurred and almost incomprehensible. He's not pie-eyed, nor has he drank enough to be tipsy. I'm a high tol, he used to say back then, I don't get drunk easily. And it's still as veracious as it was back when he boasted about his alcohol tolerance in high school and college parties, but somehow succumbing to the wobbling of his eyes—a telltale sign that he's drank a lot—and embracing it as a whole feels better than turning to the sober part of his being.

"Can. Better," Taeyong breathes out the words and Jaehyun knows better. Jaehyun _always_ knows better. Taeyong's tipsy, if not already drunk, and he's speaking very little to not feed onto his growing headache even more. He wanted to come back to their apartment from a party Yuta dragged them to. And they let themselves be dragged because they didn't want to see their friend's overwrought smile to deduce into disappointment. Jaehyun was more up for it compared to Taeyong who didn't feel like partying at all.

And drinking.

In a crowded place.

Of course.

It's kind of ironic. Jaehyun wants to chuckle, but he doesn't. 

Taeyong swirls the can, and Jaehyun can picture the sloshing of the amber liquid inside. "Bottled beer tastes like ass, Jaehyun-ah. It's not a good experience."

"You've eaten ass to know that? And you never told me? We've been friends for four years"—Jaehyun holds up four fingers with one hand, then puts down the last two digits—"and colleagues for two years." Jaehyun tips head back a little to quaff the remaining drops of his own beer, crumpling it and tossing it on the coffee table. Taeyong's staring—glaring—at him when their eyes meet. "What?" Jaehyun says, the mockery in his voice betraying the innocence displayed on his face. He's suddenly more sober.

"I don't, _do not,_ need to eat ass to know that bottled beer tastes like it. It tastes like ass. This—" Taeyong cranes his neck to drink and Jaehyun thinks he doesn't deserve to witness this—the supple skin of Taeyong's neck in clear view, and his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he gulps every drop of the malt liquid. Said malt liquid starts dribbling down Taeyong's chin then down to the hollow of his throat, disappearing down the collar of his shirt. All of this happening, of course, with Jaehyun's eyes trailing every bit of what's happening in front of him.

It's not the alcohol talking. He really doesn't deserve this. 

Jaehyun gulps, and the taste it leaves at the back of his throat makes him scrunch his face pleasantly. Jaehyun loves it. Jaehyun loves beer. Jaehyun loves, loves beer when it seeps down the chin and past the neck. What the fuck?

Taeyong lets out a contented sigh when he finally finishes, and Jaehyun averts his gaze from Taeyong's neck, suddenly feeling like having done so was too big of a punishable crime. He shouldn't even have stared like _that._ They're friends. For four years. And colleagues. For two years. "—is not ass, Jaehyun-ah." Taeyong shakes his head dramatically, even clicking his tongue to aid his point. "This is good beer. Canned beer is perfect."

"You've tasted perfection to know that?" Jaehyun's just teasing, if he's going to be honest, because he likes teasing Taeyong and teasing Taeyong is always easy. It's always so effortless to get cursory retorts from him that make Jaehyun laugh. And he was expecting another empty glare from those big eyes, but what he gets is a faint, almost inaudible:

"I have."

Jaehyun saw it, the way Taeyong intentionally tore his gaze from Jaehyun's, the apples of his cheeks flushing even more. This time, Taeyong doesn't crush the metal in his hands—doing so is tradition that both of them have broken a few countable times—and only places it on the table before slumping himself on the couch.

"You have?" Jaehyun's tone plays between the virgules of confusion and mockery. Taeyong could be letting the alcohol talk for all he knows, and Taeyong's kind of a funny drunk. He once cried over a cockroach that a very sober Jaehyun showed him and made a whole inebriated soliloquy about why humans shouldn't fear those small, crawling critters. It was hilarious to Jaehyun. Very.

Sober Taeyong would never do that. Sober Taeyong hates cockroaches.

It takes Taeyong a little while to answer, and Jaehyun waits. After all, the silence is not uncomfortable when 'Ylang Ylang' is there to succour it.

"Yeah." Jaehyun barely hears it. "I have. I think." Taeyong's chest dips and his shoulders vibrate when he chuckles, and he's still not looking at Jaehyun's eyes when he turns his head to face the other. "It was… three years ago— Maybe. I think. I was drunk too, Jaehyun-ah. Drunk too. Too drunk. But I remember it. It was perfect."

"You think?" The cushion deepens when Jaehyun shifts his position and faces Taeyong wholly, and then the metal springs beneath the couch they share creak.

"Yeah. I think."

"You're not sure?"

"I am." Taeyong lifts his gaze, and Jaehyun's mouth falls open in silence, if only to accentuate his response to the sight of Taeyong's eyes. Taeyong's eyes are beautiful, Jaehyun would say. He always sees them, but rarely are the times that he would really look. It's not at all intentional, only inadvertent that now that he realizes it, maybe he should pay attention to Taeyong's eyes more often than not. They are also droopy, and he looks like he'll completely nod off if he screws his eyes shut even for a second. That's most likely to happen, Jaehyun knows. Jaehyun always knows.

"I don't know, Jaehyun-ah." Taeyong rests—bangs—his head on the backrest and groans. He sounds like the ground is disappearing beneath his feet. "I'm just sure it was perfect. Nice. Good. Amazing. Do you want to dance?"

"You're, like, smashed, and you still want to dance?" Jaehyun laughs, voice incredulous yet still teasing. 

"'M not smashed." Taeyong frowns, his brows meeting together. He's staring at the ceiling like it's what he's talking to. "It's just beer. Perfect _fucking_ beer"—he points to the empty cans scattered around them—"if I may add, cause it's canned."

"And vodka. Back at the party," Jaehyun points out. He lifts himself from his seat on the couch and the springs underneath noticeably squeak again. Maybe they should get a new couch. Maybe they should just suck it up.

He gets on his feet, and offers a hand for Taeyong to take, finds that if Taeyong wanted to dance, then he needed his help to stand up. Though the image of Taeyong's knees wobbling would definitely be one for the books. Jaehyun's not that mean. At the very least, he's not in the mood to be _that_ mean. That says enough.

Taeyong lies a palm on Jaehyun's, and his grip as he pulls himself up with Jaehyun as leverage comes with a response. "Just one shot. It was one shot. And it was nothing."

Jaehyun shrugs—because why should he reply, one vodka shot really meant nothing—and he leads the both of them to a more spacious area in their living room.

"So how do we do this?" Jaehyun asks, his hand still holding Taeyong's own, and he finds that he doesn't want to let go. Taeyong's hand is soft, and warm, it's warm, but it must be the perfect _fucking_ beer in effect.

Taeyong inhales as he shrugs a little too longer than usual. There's a bleary smell of beer when Taeyong lets himself exhale in a sigh. "I don't know. Do I put my hand on your waist? Or you put my hand on my waist?" Taeyong shakes his head like he's trying to regain credence, or more consciousness to drown his brain into. That's more like it. "I mean your hand on my waist?"

Jaehyun snorts. "You want to dance like that? It's on shuffle, what if 'Either Way' or 'Psycho' plays next?"

Taeyong purses his lips to think. Probably think. Jaehyun bets his Alpacasso plushie that Taeyong was _not_ thinking. He's drunk. Thinking is too challenging of a task to do when shitfaced.

"But what if it doesn't?" 

'Ylang Ylang' comes to an end, and Jaehyun knows that intro all too well to know that it's not 'Either Way' or 'Psycho,' and the way Taeyong's eyes light up upon hearing the next song supplements it further.

"That's your song, right? 'Oceane?'" Jaehyun asks, and Taeyong nods eagerly, though Jaehyun didn't really need an answer. Jaehyun already knows. Their tastes in music are quite distinctive in a way, and Jaehyun knows the songs he put in their shared playlist—this isn't one of them.

Taeyong enjoys trap music and R&B, and while Jaehyun leans more towards R&B and soul, he also indulges himself in rap. He also has this thing regarding lyrics that Taeyong pointed out. Most of the tracks you like are about fucking, Jaehyun-ah. Taeyong had said. You need to get laid. It was funny. Jaehyun didn't even notice until he pointed it out. Both the lyrics, and how he needs to get laid.

"Nevermind the waist thing." Taeyong frees himself from Jaehyun's grasp, and Jaehyun is sad for a millisecond because, warm, Taeyong's hand is warm, he likes it and it's gone, but Taeyong quickly wraps his arms around Jaehyun. "I want hug, Jaehyun-ah." Taeyong sighs contentedly. Rarely are the times where Jaehyun's heart would pick up in speed—except for when he's running late for work because his digital alarm clock and his human alarm clock Taeyong didn't work on his sleeping ass—and this time he has no idea why. It must be the suddenness of what's happening, or probably the beer, but he hopes that Taeyong's intoxicated mind won't register it while he has his head on Jaehyun's chest, tucked under his chin.

It's comfortable. Jaehyun also enwinds his arms around Taeyong and pulls him impossibly closer, the action earning satisfied groans from the both of them. And when they begin dancing, one that only consists of swaying from left to right to the rhythm of the song playing, there's only loaded silence which Taeyong interrupts when he speaks again and tightens his arms around Jaehyun.

"What would you do if I suddenly fell asleep?"

Jaehyun chuckles. Sober Taeyong wouldn't ask this. Sober Taeyong already knows the answer because he often falls asleep in the living room, his prescription glasses perched on his forehead because he sleeps on the couch seated with his head reclined on the backrest, mouth open to let out unpleasant, almost inhumane snores, papers stacked and laptop open on the coffee table. And Jaehyun has made it his life task to always bring him to his room and make him comfortable enough that he doesn't jolt awake in the middle of the night like how he usually does. "Carry you to your room—unless you don't want to, but you only resisted it once, anyway—make sure you're warm with a blanket, then leave? Why do you ask?"

"Why do you do that, Jaehyun-ah?" Taeyong's voice is little. Meager. He really sounds like he'll fall asleep soon, and Jaehyun doesn't know whether or not he wants that. He really likes this sorry excuse of a dance that they're doing.

"Do what?"

"Leave."

Jaehyun slightly cranes his neck to look at Taeyong, somewhat hoping that the action would be enough to display his surprise, but he only sees countless strands of his hair. It's an unusual supplication to his question. Jaehyun can say that he expected to hear something else. Something like carry me to my room or take care of me.

Leave. Of course he should leave. Why should he not leave, anyway? "Because that's your room, Taeyong, not mine."

"Why? You can always stay."

Taeyong abruptly lifts his head from his chest to stare at Jaehyun, more like glare, but it's no more an empty threat this time, and he looks more awake than what his voice lets on. "Why do you always leave?"

Taeyong says it so suddenly. Promptly. Too fast. So much that Jaehyun feels himself taken aback, feels his brows raise at the sudden question, more so when he realizes it's taking him longer than required to reply.

"Taeyong—"

"Why?" It must be the trick of the light—all the lights are literally turned off except for the one in their kitchen for when one of them comes in half awake hungering for a midnight snack—but Taeyong's eyes are watering, and the jutting of his inferior lip doesn't help. "Jaehyun-ah, are you going to leave this time too?"

He doesn't know what Taeyong meant by that, but he figures he doesn't need to when he's pulled closer by his shirt, and he finds his lips pressed against Taeyong's own.

Taeyong only opens his mouth once, if only to call it a kiss, most likely for the sake of finality, and pulls away. He tastes like malt and the leftover nuts they munched on during the first half of their drinking session. He tastes like something he can't recall from the past—like nostalgia, like something Jaehyun has encountered way back. Even then, Taeyong still has his eyes closed and Jaehyun's left glued from where he stands, fingers scrambling to curl deeper on the curves of Taeyong's waist. He's left internally panting and wanting more from nothing but a brief kiss, and when Taeyong opens his eyes then his mouth to speak, he beats him to it and dives in for another.

Only this time, it's longer, and Jaehyun swallows Taeyong's gasp with his open mouth. It's rough, and almost a little sloppy and something Jaehyun didn't know he's been wanting for quite a while. There's a blind hand that creeps up from the small of his back then up to his bicep which earns a small squeeze. Jaehyun keens at it. Keens at the blind fact that Taeyong's touching him like this, and even more so when the hand trails up to the side of his neck and finds purchase on the hairs on his nape, massaging and pulling. All the while Jaehyun is focused on the fulfillment of it all, warmth spreading over his chest, right where Taeyong had his head on just a few minutes before.

Taeyong deepens the kiss, pulls himself further into Jaehyun, and he's close too. Too close. Close too. Jaehyun feels like his lips will bruise from the close contact, his lips as rufescent as his ears. He's quite certain he's all coloured up from the tips of them down to the expanse of his cheeks and chest, and he thinks of all these as he removes a hand from Taeyong's waist to place it on his cheek. "Slow. Slowly," he whispers, but there's adamancy in the way Taeyong opens his mouth even wider and his tongue brushes over Jaehyun's chin, a two-way response—he wants more. No, he's not going slow.

Suddenly there's a voice at the back of his head—Taeyong's voice—that tells him he needs to get laid. It just felt like the proper time to have thought of it, with Taeyong's warm mouth on his like this, but he pushes the thought to an even farther space in his mind with a chortle against their collided lips. The tiny semblance of sanity that he has passes into oblivion when a tongue swipes over his teeth, and slips past his mouth.

The alcohol is pungent from Taeyong's mouth this time and Jaehyun finds it intoxicating and dizzying enough that he, in the middle of his haze, lets out a sigh that he'd mistake for a whine and realizes that he's being pushed to where Taeyong wants him to be. His arm is swift to constrict around Taeyong for being void of any clue of where he's being lead to while Taeyong continues to back him, and it must've been obvious even to Taeyong's guttered mind, because when something solid hits the back of Jaehyun's knees, he mumbles something against Jaehyun's lips.

"Sit." There's a clang when Jaehyun does, and suddenly, Jaehyun realizes that he's seated on the coffee table, surrounded by empty, crumpled beer cans. Taeyong breaks away for a brief second then, there's a weight on his lap and arms around his neck, and their lips are back together once more. Jaehyun knows they should eventually stop because this, whatever it might impose and whatever it'll be later when they're more sober, isn't quite a response to what Taeyong meant by what he said. Is he going to leave this time too? Why does he always leave? What does leaving have to do with the press of Taeyong's mouth against his and the wrestling of their tongues—Taeyong's good at French kissing, by the way. Too good.

But whatever Taeyong might have meant by his question, Jaehyun knows that he won't leave, not when Taeyong kisses him like this. Like he's been wanting to do so for days, for months and years, for whoever knows how long.

There's a moment through it where Taeyong breaks away only to arch his chin upwards and let Jaehyun have all the access to his neck, in which Jaehyun takes with gratitude and makes the best of it. He licks a path from the hollow of his throat up to his chin only because he's reminded of the beer that slid over it a whole ago. Jaehyun's lips curl in a lazy smile until he leaves an open-mouthed kiss on a patch of skin below Taeyong's jaw, nips on it, and opens his eyes to see the image of Taeyong's eyes rolling to the back of his head and his mouth open to let go of small hisses.

It's an image of, the kind of Taeyong that Jaehyun's _never_ seen in their four years of friendship, and two years of being colleagues—that might really be unnecessary info—and promptly, Jaehyun thinks he wants it engraved behind his lids.

He leaves a mark and finds Taeyong's lips upon having his hair carded through and his head pulled down for another searing kiss. Amidst the low buzzing of his ears and his obfuscated self, he realizes the song has changed to 'Yellow'—probably in its one-minute mark the moment Taeyong pulls away not without another rather intensive peck on his lips—a song they both agreed to put into their shared playlist, the song that's playing as Taeyong looks at him panting with dark, half lidded eyes, and bruised, open lips. A song that now he'll enjoy for another reason, if only he'd remember this later when he wakes up.

He hopes he does.

He knows he will.

He still doesn't know what Taeyong meant by what he previously asked, and he doesn't know how a kiss could possibly aim for the answer he wants, but—

"How was it?" Taeyong asks, out of breath. He looks more sober than he was earlier which would be surprising if he weren't. "You're going to leave again?" The _aren't you_ hangs in the air and left unsaid, but Jaehyun still hears it, and thinks that he should answer despite this being a type of question that doesn't need one.

"Nice." He breathes. "Good. Amazing—" Jaehyun's breath hitches. It washes over him like tidal wave, the recollection of three years ago, and how these were the same exact words he uttered against Taeyong's mouth that night.

Taeyong tasted like nostalgia, and _this_ is nostalgia.

"You said the same thing. Three years ago. Back at our last party in college." There are fingers playing on the small hairs on his nape, and Jaehyun feels a sudden surge of warmth even through the crevices of his skin. Taeyong's lips curl a little, too little to be a smile but nonetheless still genuine, this, Jaehyun knows. 

"You kissed me in the dark, no matter how cliché that was, then you left and didn't remember anything the next day. Are you going to leave this time too, Jaehyun-ah?"

This time, with Taeyong on the couch and Jaehyun hovering on top of him and leaving wet trails of kisses on his naked torso, their clothes are strewn across the room, coalescing into the mess that are empty beer cans.

The metal coils still squeak in every heavy move he makes and each squirm Taeyong does, but Jaehyun knows now how a kiss could aim for an answer, and every question they've left unasked.

**Author's Note:**

> it ends there i'm so sorry... not
> 
> kudos nd comments r always appreciated <3


End file.
